Painful Lessons
by Chii the Chobit
Summary: In Kyoto, Hisoka finds himself the witness to another of Muraki's murders. What if Tsuzuki didn't make it time to save him? (A "What if" from the Kyoto Arc)
1. Beneath the Red Moon

Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, though I wish I did... Then I woulda thrown Tsubaki-hime overboard at the beginning, Hisoka and Tsuzuki would be partners for more than just work, and there would have been more than 13 episodes! However, I do not own it...

Note: This is my first fan fic ever! Soka-chan (my friend!) asked about a 'what if' story from Yami no Matsuei, so I told her that I'd write one! In the first episode of the Kyoto arc, what would have happened had Tsuzuki not shown up to save Hisoka from Muraki? This is gonna be a dark fic, but I hope you all like it! Please review! Please! Constructive criticism only though... for flames shall be used to toast marshmallows!

Warnings: Well, being YnM, obviously shounen-ai and yaoi... O.o If you don't like it, why are you looking at Yami no Matsuei? Um, nothing really terrible yet, other than Muraki's usual twisted antics, but expect mature themes later!

* * *

This couldn't be happening. Not again... The plastic bag he'd been carrying slipped from his fingers, landing heavily on the ground at his feet. Blinking his large emerald eyes, Hisoka could only hope that he wasn't seeing properly, that he was just paranoid, and that it was all an illusion. But, even as he did so, he realized that he wouldn't be so lucky... There, hovering in the sky above, was a blood moon. The same crimson moon that appeared whenever _he_ was near...

The young shinigami's mind raced with the possibilities of what the moon could possibly mean - that _he_ had killed again, that _he_ too was in Kyoto, that _he_ was...

_Clack!_

The boy's heart nearly stopped as he heard a noise, causing him to finally tear his gaze away from the horrible red orb above him. There, at his feet, lay the culprit: a lone wooden sandal. Staring wide-eyed at the object, Hisoka's curiosity battled with his fear. It was strange for someone's shoe to suddenly land at the bottom of the stairs, but for some reason, simply the sight of it made him want to run back to the hotel, back to Tsuzuki and Watari-san.

Clenching his fists and gathering his determination, Hisoka turned his gaze to where the shoe had fallen from, his eyes slowly climbing each step. Nothing seemed out of place... Well, except for that small puddle forming at the base of one of the stone steps...

Wait- a puddle?

Hisoka turned all the way around to face the staircase, his breath catching in his throat. Just above the pool of dark liquid lay the owner of the sandal; she was sprawled across the stone, like some pathetic, discarded doll. Her body was unmoving and broken - however, it was not the woman's lifeless form that frightened the boy. No, it was the white clad figure that stood over her that sent the shivers down Hisoka's spine. The man's long white jacket dripped with blood, the dark stains standing out sharply against the light fabric. His glasses flashed, silvery hair shimmering eerily in the red moonlight.

"Well, well. It's you again?"

The voice made the hairs on the back of Hisoka's neck stand on end, but all the boy could do was stare at him. His expression was somewhere between utter hatred and the purest fear, though exactly which he felt more of was unclear. All he could manage to do was to say the man's name, uttering it as though it were some horrible curse:

"_Muraki!_"

In the face of Muraki Kazutaka, his own murderer who now stood over yet another victim, Hisoka could not seem to make his feet work. It felt as though they were made of lead, making it impossible for him to run away or even move.

"You really do have the worst timing, boy," Muraki stated calmly, stepping carefully around the bloody mess he had created. Despite the deep crimson stains already covering the front of his suit, the doctor seemed to want to avoid further bloodying his ivory shoes. Taking one step down, then another, Muraki slowly advanced upon the seemingly frozen boy, his strange blue eye glittering dangerously behind its veil of silver hair.

Hisoka watched in horror as the white clad predator neared him, trapped in place as though he had lost all control of his body. Struggling with himself, the shinigami finally forced himself to move. Taking a shaky step backwards, he tried to put some distance between himself and Muraki. As he tried to take another step, he found half of his foot was resting on air; there was no where to back up to. With a sharp intake of breath, Hisoka swayed as he began to lose his balance. Quickly placing his foot on the solid ground once more, he looked up to see the doctor, who was only a mere few feet away.

"Be careful you don't trip and fall," Muraki taunted as he continued his descent, "There's a legend in Kyoto that if you fall from the stone steps, you'll die within three years." Another step. "Then again, I've already killed you."

'_I've already killed you.'_ Hisoka cringed at the thought, images of cherry blossoms and the crimson moon suddenly invading his thoughts. While he tried to banish them to the back of his mind, there was something all too familiar about this situation that kept calling the images to the surface. The shinigami had tried to ignore just how similar his current situation was to that night, but his mind would not seem to allow it.

The blood drenched man now stood on the second to last step, his piercing gaze never leaving the boy in front of him. Hisoka could almost feel the doctor's eyes on him, as though they were working to hold him in place. Words could not describe the terror he felt as he stood all alone before Muraki, but Hisoka absolutely refused to show his fear. That was exactly what the doctor strived for. Instead, he would cover up his weakness the way he always did: with anger.

"Muraki, what are you up to this time?" he snapped, standing directly in front of the murderer, blocking his path.

"You're in my way. Step aside," Muraki responded coldly, not moving from the step.

"Answer me Muraki!" Hisoka growled, still standing in the doctor's way. He glared at the man defiantly, as though such a simple action would work to intimidate the man. Though, the shinigami very much doubted the devil before him feared anything... Especially not him.

"I'm not obliged to answer you," Muraki seemed to have quickly become bored with the situation, his usually steady voice now showing the faintest traces of annoyance.

"What?!" the young shinigami spat angrily. Hisoka, while scared to death, was easily irritated by the man's refusal to answer. Despite his overwhelming urge to run, he took a bold step forward, still glaring at the twisted doctor.

"My, my... Are you still angry about Tsubaki-hime? She tells me that she 'loves' and 'wants' me, getting wrapped up in her silly delusions. My little doll who died like a pathetic fool."

Hisoka's temper boiled up within him at the mention of Tsubaki-hime, his mind wandering back to the Queen Camellia. Standing with Tsuzuki in the hidden operating room... Tsubaki-hime... falling forwards into his arms, a bullet wound in her back... Muraki standing framed by the door way, gun in hand. The very thought of what had happened in that room made his blood run cold. Tsubaki had loved the doctor and he tossed her aside like a used toy. Just like he did with everyone else.

"Bastard!" Hisoka bellowed, rushing at Muraki with his fist raised. He didn't even think of the consequences of such a rash, foolish action. He just wanted to hit the man, wipe that smirk off his face, cause him even the smallest amount of pain.

Muraki smirked, remaining perfectly still as he watched the boy's pathetic attempt to charge him. It was almost enough to make him laugh. Without any warning, the silvery haired man sprang to life, easily grabbing the shinigami's flying fist and roughly pulling his arm back. Within seconds, he had the boy's arms twisted around behind his back, effectively pinning him. With a startled gasp, Hisoka struggled against the other man, trying to loosen the doctor's hold and hopefully get away from him. However, the grip on his wrists was like a vice and there was little the sixteen year old could do to escape it. Muraki simply smirked, pulling the boy's body against his own so that his lips were hovering just next to Hisoka's ear.

Hisoka stifled a yell as the doctor held him, clenching his teeth tightly so as not to allow any sound to escape. Physical contact usually overwhelmed the young empath, filling him with not only his own emotions, but all the emotions of the other as well. However, Hisoka never seemed to feel any actual emotions from Muraki, but a deep darkness and sense of... _evil_. And right now, he felt like he was going to drown in that darkness. Any hope he had seemed to have was taken from him in that moment, leaving only his own fear and the twisted, sickening feeling he got from his murderer.

Muraki placed his other hand on the back of his captive's head, running his long, pale fingers through the sandy blonde hair. Grasping at the silky locks, the doctor then yanked Hisoka's head back roughly, causing the boy to wince. "You fly off the handle so easily - what a child you are," Muraki hissed, leaning in closer to Hisoka's ear.

"Let me go." Hisoka demanded, a hint of fear creeping into his voice. There was no way he could escape Muraki's grip, which only made his situation even more frightening. He was at the doctor's mercy...

"It seems as though you need another little lesson," he whispered into Hisoka's ear, lips only a centimeter away. "On that day, the moon was as beautiful as tonight's moon..."

"St-stop..." the trapped shinigami whispered shakily. Muraki's warm breath against his ear made Hisoka shiver - This had to be another nightmare, just like the ones he so often had about his death. He'd wake up soon, find himself in bed, his sheets damp with sweat. Tsuzuki would be in the bed next to him, sleeping soundly... He would be safe.

Another cruel yank on his arms awoke Hisoka to the truth. This was happening. And there was no one here to help him. '_Tsuzuki... where are you?_' Hisoka thought desperately, his green eyes searching the landing below. Any minute, the dark figure of his partner would appear from the shadows and demand that Muraki release him. He would. He had to come and rescue him...

"Yes, I think that another lesson is exactly what you need..." Muraki breathed into Hisoka's ear, enjoying every moment of discomfort he was causing the child. His lips curled into a sadistic grin as he released his hold on Hisoka's hair and pulled his wrists up, then proceeded to drag the boy up the stone staircase, back the way he had come.

Hisoka dragged his feet, trying to make his sneakers dig in to the hard stone, to grip something... Anything to slow down Muraki. Though the efforts seemed to be in vain, as the doctor simply continued to drag the boy as though he weighed nothing at all. As he was pulled up the stairs, Hisoka's shins cracked painfully against the rocky edge of the step, then again on the next stair. After the third time, the shinigami began to actually move his feet, stumbling along as he was led by his wrists.

As Muraki pulled Hisoka up the last stair brutally, the shinigami was at the point of panic. He tried once again to pull his wrists free, twisting and squirming. Unfortunately for Hisoka, his struggles only earned him a sharp slap across the face. His cheek stung and turned as red as the moon above them as Hisoka looked wide-eyed at his merciless captor. Even though his cheek quickly healed back to its original state, the smack had brought the boy back to reality, making him realize for the first time: He was not going to be saved. Muraki had him... just like before.

"Unfortunately, there are no cherry blossoms at this time of year... I suppose the fall leaves will have to do," Muraki commented, as though the two were having some pointless conversation over tea. Still grasping the boy's wrists tightly with his right hand, he began to search his stained jacket for something. From his pocket, he produced a long silvery wire that looked a lot like fishing line. Hisoka stared at the wire hopelessly, recognition dawning on him. It appeared to be the very same wire that the doctor had used on him in Nagasaki... A string of cursed hair that could bind beings as powerful as shinigami.

"Let me go... Tsuzuki will..." Hisoka started as Muraki began to bind him with the silvery thread. At first, Muraki appeared to be ignoring him as he continued to tie the boy's hands. The bonds were tied so tightly that the thin wire bit into the soft flesh of his wrist, a miniature stream of blood working its way down his arm. A small smirk took the doctor's lips once more as he slowly licked the blood away, effectively drawing out the boy's torture. Finally, Muraki seemed to have acknowledged the earlier statement as he leaned into Hisoka's face, so close that their noses almost touched.

"Tsuzuki-san is not going to save you, my precious little doll," Muraki hissed, "Not this time."


	2. Hisoka's Lesson

Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, though I wish I did... Then I woulda thrown Tsubaki-hime overboard at the beginning, Hisoka and Tsuzuki would be partners for more than just work, and there would have been more than 13 episodes! However, I do not own it.

Note: This is my first fan fic ever! Soka-chan (my friend!) asked about a 'what if' story from Yami no Matsuei, so I told her that I'd write one! In the first episode of the Kyoto arc, what would have happened had Tsuzuki not shown up to save Hisoka from Muraki?

So here it is, Muraki's 'lesson'! Gomen, I didn't plan on taking so long. I just hope it was worth the wait. This is probably one of the darkest chapters, so beware! o.o; Thank you to everyone who reviewed last time! Please review more! No flames or I'll use them to toast marshmallows. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Warnings: Well, being YnM, obviously shounen-ai and yaoi... O.o If you don't like it, why are you looking at Yami no Matsuei? This chapter is where the R rating comes into effect! There is gore, violence, and non descriptive rape. If you don't like it, don't read it.

* * *

All that Hisoka could see were his eyes. Those horrible, mismatched eyes completely filled his field of vision, blocking out everything else. One, silvery and cat like behind the lens of his glasses, and the other, wide and a strange electric blue color. The blue was usually hidden behind his long greyish strands of hair, but their faces were so close together that Hisoka could see both eyes. The shinigami wanted to look away but he couldn't; there was no room for him to turn his head.

Muraki smirked coldly, contemplating what to do next with his little toy. The very sight of those large emerald eyes wide with fear was enough to excite him. Licking his lips with anticipation, the doctor pulled his away from his face, then released his hold on the shinigami's wrists. He was not about to let the boy escape, but he could do very little if he had to hold on to Hisoka's tied hands.

Hisoka couldn't stand how close the doctor was to him... Muraki was near enough that he could feel the man's hot breath on his face. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared in his face, he was gone, and the boy found his bound wrists free from the other's grip. '_What...?_' Hisoka was confused, but he couldn't miss his opportunity to escape. But even before the thought to run away had even processed in his mind, Hisoka suddenly felt strong hands impact hard against his shoulders, sending him sprawling backwards. With a yelp, the shinigami was thrown against a tree, his back slamming hard against the rough trunk. Sliding to the base of the tree, his mind reeling, Hisoka coughed and spluttered as he tried to catch his breath. The force of the blow had knocked the wind out of him, making breathing and thinking difficult.

Gasping raggedly from his spot amid the tree roots, Hisoka blinked a few times as he struggled to see straight. His head was pounding as though he were still hitting the tree... Perhaps that was why he didn't notice Muraki's movements. Having shed his blood stained trench coat, the doctor now stood over the boy, a scalpel in hand, most likely from one of the many pockets in his jacket. The small blade mirrored the gory red of the moon, as though the silvery edge was already tainted with blood. Before Hisoka knew what was happening, the doctor was on top of him, pulling the shinigami's arms above his head once more.

Tugging on Hisoka's long sweater with his other hand, Muraki eyed the garment with disgust. "My my... Your kimono was much cuter, Hisoka-chan. To think, that my favorite doll would wear something like this..." Muraki shook his head dramatically, pushing his glasses higher on his nose. He then proceeded to cut the sweater down the front, then the sleeves, finally tearing the shapeless garment from his body. He tossed the frayed scraps of material aside before fiddling with the buttons of the white shirt Hisoka wore beneath.

"Muraki... stop..." Hisoka whimpered, his green eyes wet with unshed tears. It was happening again, just like it had that night. He avoided looking at his tormentor, but as he searched for something else to watch, he only found the red moon. It seemed to be taunting him, much as it did in his nightmares. He had seen that cold moon through the cherry blossoms; a moon that had watched carelessly as he was tortured and violated. He finally chose darkness, squeezing his eyelids tightly shut, trying to block everything out. But it wouldn't stop... He felt his white shirt ripped from his thin form, tossed aside with his sweater. '_No..._'

From his position above him, Muraki couldn't hold back the wicked smile as he beheld Hisoka. He ran a long finger softly over the boy's skin, retracing the symbols he had carved so many years ago. They seemed to have faded from their original bright angry red... That would never do. Continuing to drag his finger across the boys skin, he traced the symbols on his chest, down his flat stomach and finally across his narrow hips until he reached the hem of the shinigami's black pants.

"No!" Hisoka cried loudly, having found his voice again. He had stopped caring if Muraki saw his fear, he just wanted to get away. Tears began to slide down his face, soaking his cheeks. He tried to move, but the doctor was straddling his hips and holding his arms, so there was no place for him to go. "Please! Don't do this... not again..." the shinigami pleaded, his green eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

Ignoring the boy's cries completely, Muraki roughly pulled on the top of the boy's pants. Sliding off of Hisoka for a moment, he quickly freed the shinigami of the rest of his clothing. Now, all of Hisoka's creamy white skin was exposed, as well as the intricate art Muraki had created years ago. Like on his chest, these newly revealed scars didn't look near as red as they once had... It seemed it was time for the 'artist' to touch them up.

With his eyes still closed, Hisoka didn't have to watch as he lost the last of his clothing. He felt the sudden bite of the chilly night air on the naked flesh, but he didn't see his pants being taken away. He didn't want to. He already knew in his heart what was going to happen... And the very thought made his heart freeze. Hisoka also didn't see the scalpel. He didn't see Muraki's hand or the blade hovering over his pale skin. Nor the twisted look of pleasure on the doctor's face as the blade sank into the tender flesh of his chest.

Hisoka's high pitched shriek of pain only made Muraki want the boy even more. Half of him wanted to take the young shinigami right then, break his spirit completely. But no, he would finish the task at hand. With precise and careful movements, Muraki calmly continued to reopen the cursed wounds as his victim moaned in pain. The small blade flashed as it slid across Hisoka's chest, its smooth movements like some sadistic dance that left a crimson trail in its wake.

Hisoka tried to scream, to tell him to stop, but all he managed was another painful groan. He'd given up on struggling physically, as he knew it would only make it worse. Trying to move away from the blade only succeeded in digging it in deeper; Hisoka knew from experience. Pain washed over him in waves, making coherent thought all but impossible. Not that he wanted to think about what was happening... Or worse, what had yet to happen.

Out of the blur of mixed thoughts and feelings in the shinigami's head, one thing did come through loud and clear. _Where was Tsuzuki?_ Why didn't he save him from this Hell? Had he been forgotten? Tears continued to stream from his closed eyelids as he whimpered again. _'Please... save me...'_ As the blade continued its agonizingly slow punishment, Hisoka silently wished for darkness to take him, to lose consciousness... But it seemed that there was no force that could save him from this torture.

Laughing cruelly, Muraki sat upright to admire his work. He no longer worried about his doll escaping... he had already given up struggling. Much to the doctor's disappointment, some of the earlier wounds had already begun to heal, leaving only a thin red line of blood where they had once been. '_How amusing..._' Lowering his head, Muraki's tongue snaked out to lick up the pooled liquid, his silvery eyes still watching Hisoka's face. How he loved the horrified expressions of the shinigami; he found them very... entertaining. Continuing his progress, he cleaned the blood from the wounds with excruciating slowness, savoring the sweet metallic taste in his mouth.

Beneath the blood, the freshly healed incisions were an aggravated scarlet; much like the color they had been the night Muraki had first carved them. Despite his previous disappointment, the doctor couldn't help but feel pleased with the results. Hisoka's tormented wails were proof enough that the thin scalpel's blade had done its job well.

Stroking the boy's tear drenched cheek affectionately, Muraki's lips twisted into a fiendish grin. The pesky boy had gotten in the way of his plans so many times... Harming him physically just didn't seem to be enough. Physical wounds healed quickly. Psychological wounds however...

Caressing Hisoka's burning chest with his cool fingers, he leaned forward to whisper in the quaking boy's ear. "It seems Tsuzuki-san doesn't care as much as you thought, bouya. He hasn't come to save you yet..." the cruel man breathed, before licking his earlobe tauntingly. "After all, why would he want to save you?"

He hadn't wanted to listen, but Muraki's words mirrored his own panicked thoughts. Was it true? Had Tsuzuki in fact forgotten him? It had to have been an eternity since he left his partner to get dinner... Why hadn't he come looking for him? Shaking his head violently, Hisoka tried to move his ear away from the heartless man, away from his cruel words. "No more... no... mo-" he managed weakly, his slim frame shaking as he made a pitiful attempt to escape the other man.

"You know it's true, bouya... You will always be my cherished doll," Muraki continued, his words cutting deeper than any razor edge could, "But you will never be anything to your precious Tsuzuki-san."

Nuzzling the sensitive skin of the boy's neck, Muraki could sense the boy's mind was breaking, giving up, just as his body had. Hisoka had finally opened his eyelids, though the emerald eyes beneath were empty and distant. Yet another salty tear had dripped down his cheek and was slowly working its way down his chin, but the shinigami seemed unfazed. His lips moved silently, though the doctor had good idea who he was soundlessly calling for. _'How pathetic… Even now he calls for Tsuzuki…'_

Though Muraki had to agree that the fact Tsuzuki hadn't appeared was disappointing… He could only imagine the look on the beautiful man's face when he saw his beloved partner broken, bleeding, and stripped of any dignity. He could almost see the anger and guilt in those magnificent violet eyes...

Muraki began to shed his white suit jacket, which, like his trench coat, was now decorated with scarlet stains from both from his earlier victim and the broken doll beneath him. As he proceeded to loosen his ebony tie, Hisoka's mouth opened in silent protest, something flickering behind his blank eyes. So, perhaps there was still some fight in the boy… That little mental resistance would make the experience that much more enjoyable for the doctor, and the defeat even more total for Hisoka.

Using his fingers to possessively comb through the front strands of Hisoka's hair, Muraki began to unbutton his own grey colored shirt. The boy had barely noticed the other's actions or even that his wrists had been released; then again, he couldn't do much with them bound together anyway. Beyond the tiny flash of emotion and his noiseless tears, Hisoka did very little to resist. He was a puppet and Muraki was pulling his strings, controlling him with fear and pain.

'_Tsuzuki..._' His name rang through his mind, clear despite the chaos of Hisoka's thoughts. Why was he thinking of him at a time like this? The amethyst eyed man had abandoned him, left him to be tortured at the hands of his murderer. And yet, the name persistently remained in his mind, as though by calling out to him, the older shinigami would appear and it would all be over. Even with that name, that one precious word, he couldn't fight back. He could only watch helplessly as Muraki discarded the rest of his ivory suit. But still, his mind whispered the name defiantly. '_Tsuzuki..._'

"You certainly aren't a very attentive pupil," Muraki said softly, kissing Hisoka's delicate pink lips with a strange gentleness. The shinigami's skin crawled as he felt his own bare chest brush against Muraki's, a feeling that he remembered all to well. It was becoming harder for Hisoka to differentiate what was memory and what was reality... But no matter which it was, Hisoka could not tolerate much more. He wanted to die again, move on, get away from everyone. Even...

Ignoring the boy's blank expression, Muraki continued to speak to him. "Tsk, tsk. That will never do. You didn't learn anything at all from our last lesson, now did you?" A wicked smirk turned the corners of his lips as the doctor shifted his position slightly, placing his own knee between Hisoka's thighs. "I think that I'll let you remember our encounter this time. Perhaps it will teach you some respect, bouya," he whispered venomously, his visible silver eye glimmering in the red moonlight.

The thought of forgetting everything hadn't actually occurred to the boy. While it was true the doctor made him forget the details of their first meeting, some brief flashes of memory had still lingered in the back of his mind. Hisoka still knew that he'd been murdered, he just didn't know how or why. In fact, it had been the pursuit of that knowledge that made him become shinigami in the first place. So, even if he were made to forget again, some tiny scrap of remembrance would remain and continue to haunt him... Wouldn't it? He'd still know something happened. Not that it mattered now; the cruel man wouldn't allow him even the small relief that came from forgetting. No, Muraki would make sure that Hisoka remembered all of it... especially in his dreams. Or more accurately, in his nightmares.

Using his knee, Muraki began to open the boy's body to him, parting Hisoka's slender legs with ease. Playing these twisted games may have been enjoyable, but it was time to strike the final blow; the blow that would finally crush the annoying little shinigami. As Hisoka felt the other man's pale flesh brush against his sensitive inner thigh, another shiver coursed through his thin body. Even through the tangle of emotions and thoughts that invaded his mind, the shinigami could figure out what the sinister doctor intended to do next. Had he the choice, he would have preferred that Muraki had simply continued slicing open the cursed marks.

Chuckling at his despairing doll, Muraki roughly captured Hisoka in another kiss. Unlike the previous feather soft peck, the kiss was forceful and merciless; yet another act of domination. Harshly wrenching the boy's lips apart, the silvery haired man entwined his tongue with the other's, taking in the taste of Hisoka's mouth greedily. Hisoka wanted to gag; the feeling of Muraki's invading tongue made him sick to his stomach.

Nibbling his captive's bottom lip, the doctor finally broke the kiss, but remained eye to eye with the shinigami. Muraki preferred being intrusively close to the boy's face, as closeness evidently bothered the young empath. It also gave him an excellent view of those large frightened eyes. They were very similar to those of a rabbit trapped by a predator; one who is face to face with its own death, and knows there is no escape. And now he would snap this little rabbit's neck once again.

The shinigami felt nauseous and the lingering taste of Muraki only worked to make matters worse. His eyes were swollen and red, but it seemed he had run out of tears. The pale skin of his face had become pink and blotchy, his now dry cheeks still stained by the salty droplets. But other than his shuddering breaths and occasional muffled moan, he seemed to show no other outward signs of distress. Funny, he thought he would never stop crying...

Hisoka's limited awareness was abruptly returned to Muraki as he felt something push against his thigh again. With a whimper, Hisoka slowly began to figure out just what had occurred, each thought coming slowly, like a tiny piece of some large puzzle. As he had kept Hisoka's attention on his mouth, Muraki had taken the opportunity to position himself between the boy's legs. Unfortunately for Hisoka, by the time he had realized Muraki's plan, it was already too late.

"Ever since that first, beautiful night when I marked you as my own, I've wished I could feel you again. You'll always be mine, bouya... My own doll," Muraki whispered, though Hisoka wasn't actually listening. Without any further hesitation and without any mercy, he thrust his hips forward, savagely entering the poor boy.

Hisoka screamed. He'd never screamed like that in his life, never like this shrill, ear splitting shriek. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside... An inside that was now hollow but for Muraki's vile intrusion. He felt dizzy; the pain was numbing his mind, pulling it ever closer to darkness. As his attacker began to move within him, Hisoka's mind began to slip, finally succumbing to the cool nothingness of unconsciousness. '_Tsuzuki..._'

* * *

Still laying on the cold ground, Hisoka's dead looking green eyes gazed blankly at the red moon. _'That moon...'_ Blood had pooled around his naked form on the ground; his own blood. He'd lost more than enough to kill a normal person... Then again, he wasn't normal.

The red liquid had begun to pour through the grass, trickling thickly down the stone step and gathering at the base. Just the way the woman's had. That puddle of crimson red that had started it all...

How long had the other man been gone? Or was he still there? Hisoka could still hear that horrible laughter, still feel Muraki inside him. He felt so lost and hollow. So... weak. So weak that he couldn't even manage to make a sound as a pair of strong arms closed around him, lifting him from the ground, taking him away...

* * *

Notes: A little pointless comment. My friend, Soka-chan, whom I wrote this for had a question from this chapter: Does Hisoka go commando? Yes, I know I made no mention of underwear, but I'd like to keep my account. Also, I didn't want to embarrass poor Hisoka... Tsuzuki tried to help do the laundry, and accidently put Hisoka's white underwear in with that annoying red sweater that Muraki has now shredded. So, I didn't want to have anyone tease him about wearing pink under garments!

What can I say... weird questions get weirder answers... o.O;


	3. Where Are You?

Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei, though I wish I did... Then I woulda thrown Tsubaki-hime overboard at the beginning, an important kiss scene would have been added, and I would never have allowed them to butcher it with a dub. However, I do not own it...

Note: This is my first fan fic ever! Soka-chan (my friend!) asked about a 'what if' story from Yami no Matsuei, so I told her that I'd write one! In the first episode of the Kyoto arc, what would have happened had Tsuzuki not shown up to save Hisoka from Muraki?

Sorry about the wait... Our favourite sweet toothed shinigami finally makes his appearance! I know you were all wondering about his whereabouts... And the answer to what seems a very popular question: Who has taken our dear Hisoka-kun? Thank you all again for reading and reviewing! And more reviews are loved, one can never have too many! Constructive criticism is appreciated! Oh yeah... and... Quick Edit is the bane of my existence!

Warnings: Well, being YnM, obviously shounen-ai and yaoi... O.o If you don't like it, why are you looking at Yami no Matsuei? Well, if you made it this far, I assume you know what you're getting yourselves into...

* * *

Glancing at the clock anxiously, Tsuzuki continued his impatient pacing around the small hotel room. Only three minutes had passed since the last time he had checked, but it might as well have been three days. It had to have been hours since Hisoka had left to pick up some dinner... As if on cue, his stomach gave an annoyed grumble in an effort to remind the man it was empty. Frowning, Tsuzuki wandered towards the grubby looking window, hoping for some sign of his sandy haired partner.

Which grocery store had he gone to? There were a couple that were fairly close by, so why was he taking so long? Had he not known what Hisoka's reaction would be, Tsuzuki would have gone to look for him earlier. Being called a 'baka' wasn't anything new to the man, and he'd rather suffer the verbal abuse and know that the younger shinigami was alright. But, he also remembered the reason behind the irritation that his constant meddling caused Hisoka. Perhaps he could take care of himself...

The soft clicking of computer keys could be heard as Watari continued to work away at his laptop. Or at least, pretend to work. Hidden by the flat screen, the scientist watched the other man's agitated wandering with an amused expression, his mischievous gold eyes twinkling behind the round lenses of his glasses. So it seemed Tsuzuki really did worry about the kid... As the corners of his lips turned up to form their quirky smile, he had to hold back a laugh; he actually found Tsuzuki's motherly worrying to be quite cute.

Running his fingers through his long blonde locks, Watari once again returned his focus to the flickering computer screen in front of him. The serious face of Muraki Kazutaka glared back at him from the photograph, his cold eyes almost as disturbing in the picture as they were in person. As he glanced over the twisted doctor's file, Watari had to admit, he too had begun to wonder... Just where had their youngest companion gotten to? Perhaps Tsuzuki was right to be worried, especially if Doctor Muraki was in fact behind the recent string of murders.

Rising to his feet, Watari slowly brought his hands up above his head and stretched his tired back, his aching bones creaking as he did. At the sound, Tsuzuki glanced over his shoulder, trying to offer the blonde a friendly smile. However, it was easy to tell that the expression was forced, and even easier to see the nervousness behind those violet eyes. It was painful for Watari just to watch.

Pulling on his long white lab coat, Watari bounded energetically across the room before sliding to a halt next to the other man. Slapping a hand on Tsuzuki's shoulder reassuringly, he wore the same bright expression he always had when he'd come up with another 'brilliant' idea.

"How about we go find Bon? He probably couldn't choose what to buy from that floor length list of food options you left him," Watari proclaimed, trying to sound cheerful as he squeezed Tsuzuki's shoulder gently. The scientist didn't want to sound worried, as he knew it would only make the other even more tense. But Hisoka had been gone for quite a while... Then again, Watari also didn't want to interfere too much, as the boy seemed to be easily offended by such 'helpful' intrusions. He could understand where the kid was coming from... Hisoka just wanted to prove he could take care of himself.

The amethyst eyed shinigami nodded slowly, feeling the worry subside slightly. It really wasn't like Hisoka to take so long; it was usually he who was rushing Tsuzuki! Pulling his own dark coat around his shoulders, Tsuzuki headed for the door trying to feign his usual bouncy attitude. And failing miserably.

* * *

'Operation: Search for Hisoka' was headed (and named) by Watari. The blonde led the way down the darkened streets, looking this way and that as his steps echoed in the late night silence. The moon was hiding behind a thick blanket of grey clouds; any light it offered being swallowed before it could reach the city below. Perhaps if the two men had seen its ominous red glow they would have hurried their search. But it was invisible to them, and the shinigami continued their hunt completely oblivious to the danger it foretold. Now, the only illumination came from the flickering street lamps, their dull glow casting strange twisted shadows on the aged buildings that lined the road.

Gloomily following Watari, Tsuzuki's puppy-like ears drooped pathetically. They had been searching for what felt like forever... without any success. Such defeats always managed to bring the shinigami down, and this time, he didn't even have Hisoka to snap at him and make him keep going. With an exhausted sigh, the brunette turned his head to look down yet another shadowed side street. Would Hisoka be there? Or maybe some sign of him...? But no... '_Where are you, Hisoka?_'

Watari could tell Tsuzuki was becoming disheartened just from his slow stride, but they had to keep looking. They had already passed through a couple small grocers, though they had yet to find even a hint of Hisoka's presence. '_Strange... Why did Bon walk so far away from the hotel just to get dinner?_' The scatterbrained scientist pondered for a moment, trying to recall his knowledge of the city. There weren't that many stores in this area and they had already been by all but two of them. In a minute, they would pass the stairs that lead to the temple, and, if he remembered correctly, there was a small convenience store just a few minutes passed it. That would be the next stop on their search... Hopefully Bon would be there, continuing some frustrated search for dinner, unsure of what to buy and what was within Tatsumi's strict meal budget...

Had it been any other day, Tsuzuki would have been more than content to take a nighttime walk along the beautiful fall leaves. His eyes moved along the diverse foliage, taking in the variety of colors and shapes. It was true the cherry blossoms that were ever blooming in Meifu were beautiful, but Kyoto's multicolored leaves were a welcomed change of pace.

As he traced the path of one of the many falling leaves, Tsuzuki's curious gaze fell upon a large gap in the rows of trees. Within the large space, a large stone staircase climbed up the side of the hill, its broad steps littered with more of the dry, fallen leaves. Just as he opened his mouth to question Watari on their whereabouts, he spotted something dark against the grey stone. He would have dismissed it as just more leaves, had it not been for the strangely smudged stone below it. It had the darkest of stains which to seemed to have poured down the top steps like water. But without the bright moonlight, it was hard to distinguish just what the liquid was. Frowning, Tsuzuki took another step forward, peering at the mysterious shadow curiously.

"Err... Watari?" Tsuzuki began, still squinting at the suspicious object. But before he finished his sentence, the heavy clouds shifted; their thick grey cover sliding smoothly out of the way to reveal the eerie scarlet moonlight. As the light washed over the world below, the shinigami looked up questioningly, curious as to the sudden, oddly hued light. It seemed awfully bright for the middle of the night... His amethyst eyes widened in a mixture of shock and horror at the sight that awaited him. '_It couldn't be..._' The red moon.

There was only one word Tsuzuki could think of, a name that unconsciously rolled off his tongue. "Muraki..." he spat, then snapped his attention back to the now illuminated steps. Another victim lay in the mysterious shadow's place, her blood staining the stone like a gruesome dried up riverbed. Clenching his teeth in anger, he looked at her lifeless form for a moment. As he looked, he then noticed that there were two trails of blood. One was obviously from the body, but the second appeared to have dripped from the grey stone landing. '_Muraki must've killed her up there... That bastard... What the hell is he up to this time?_'

His expression serious, Tsuzuki looked away from the stairs to see Watari kneeling on the ground. From what he could see of his face, the other shinigami looked unnaturally pale, sick almost. The sight of blood and death didn't usually bother the blonde, so why...? Watari then turned to face him and, as he got to his feet, he revealed his discovery. In one shaking hand, the scientist held a grocery bag full of food; it must have been discarded at the base of the steps... or dropped. It was probably the woman's, lost when Muraki had attacked her. Why was Watari so worried by... Tsuzuki thought that his heart had dropped to the bottoms his feet. That bag hadn't belonged to the victim. It was Hisoka's. Hisoka had been here, which meant that he'd met up with...

Before Watari could protest, Tsuzuki swung around and rushed up the stairs, his dark coat flaring around him wildly. '_No... no... no..._' Why hadn't he noticed it before? The second trail of blood was still spilling down the stairs, the pool on the step steadily growing... If Muraki had killed the woman up there, then it would have dried before the other had. He truly was a fool!

He kept his eyes trained on the crimson trail that had been left for him, coming ever closer to the landing. Hisoka was there, he had to be... What had Muraki done to him? Tsuzuki carelessly ran through the spilled blood as he climbed the final step, splashing the red liquid onto the cuff of his pant leg. It wasn't important. At this point, Hisoka was the only thing that mattered to him.

"Tsuzuki!" Watari cried after him, but the other man had already begun to ascend the blood splattered steps. Looking at the bag still held in his hand, the scientist knew he should go after the other shinigami. If anything had happened to Hisoka... Well, even he didn't know just what Tsuzuki would do. Dropping the plastic bag on the cement where he'd found it, Watari bounded after the amethyst eyed man as fast as he could manage. His knees felt as though they were made of rubber, making pursuit difficult. He'd already lost sight of Tsuzuki; it seemed he'd already made it to the landing. '_Hang in there, Bon..._' Hopefully they weren't too late.

* * *

From the roof of the temple, the silent white figure waited to watch the drama that would soon unfold below him. Had anyone seen him, they might have mistaken him for an angel, sent to watch over the holy place on which he stood. The very thought of that comparison made Muraki want to laugh. Upon closer inspection, nothing about him was angelic. Even the purity of his white clothes had been spoiled; the ivory cloth had been further stained with blood before he'd left his poor little doll. An Angel of Death perhaps... that seemed a more fitting metaphor.

After leaving the boy, Muraki had retreated to his high perch, waiting patiently for his love to arrive. It was only a matter of time until the beautiful man would appear to save his annoying partner. Only this time, Tsuzuki-san would be too late. The twisted doctor sneered at the thought; it seemed he would have pleasure of seeing his earlier imaginations take shape. The look of horror and anger on Tsuzuki's face, the guilt burning in those lovely purple eyes. He had already played it over in his head several times.

As he kept watch, he thought maybe he would make an appearance when Tsuzuki arrived; perhaps suddenly slide out from the shadows as he did so well. The shinigami's rage would be unimaginable and the feeling of power emanating from the man would become so deliciously overwhelming. But then again, such an act would be extremely risky as well. Were the man to summon any of his shikigami... The smarter plan would be to watch from afar. After all, his and Tsuzuki's reunion would come soon enough.

"Soon, Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki said softly, "Soon, you too will be mine."

* * *

"... Hi- Hisoka..."

As he stood on the stony ledge of the landing, Tsuzuki felt what little color he had drain from his face. He felt like was paralyzed, as though the dreadful sight before him had robbed him of his ability to move...

There was blood everywhere; it was covering a large portion of the stone, soaking into the soft earth, drenching the grass, painting everything a horrid shade of red. Along with the unnatural crimson glow of the moon, it suddenly seemed as though the world were only made up of reds and shadowy blacks. And there, in the center of that gruesome colorless world, lay Hisoka.

For a moment, all Tsuzuki managed to do was stand there dumbly, staring at his partner's motionless form in disbelief. The boy's thin body had been stripped of its clothes; small frayed pieces of what had once been Hisoka's sweater appeared as dark spots in the sea of blood. More thick smears of dark substance stood out against his fair skin, but from his current position, Tsuzuki could not tell if they were actual wounds or simply where the scarlet liquid had been splattered.

Slowly moving forward, his cautious steps making soft ripples in the thick blood, Tsuzuki began to see the marks on Hisoka's abused body more clearly. The deep red marks he had thought were wounds revealed themselves to be thin scars; long intricate designs that wound their way up his arms and around his legs before finally working their way across the boy's torso. Tracing the precise path of the strange symbols with feelings of horror and morbid curiosity twisting in his mind, Tsuzuki suddenly heard an echo of Muraki's voice in his mind... A memory of something the doctor had told him in Nagasaki:

"_A merciless way of killing wouldn't be fitting for the beautiful boy... I dragged the running boy to the ground and stripped him of his clothes, and carved the accursed words onto him..."_

At the time the doctor said it, Tsuzuki hadn't given much thought about this statement; he had been too horrified by the other more intimate and heinous tortures Muraki had subjected the poor boy to. But now, he'd seen the damage for himself, and he could barely comprehend the pain that the boy had suffered through. That he now suffered again… all because of Tsuzuki. Had he only gone to find his partner sooner, Muraki wouldn't have caught Hisoka and…

Kneeling beside his fallen partner, the older shinigami was completely oblivious to the blood that was now seeping through the dark fabric of his pants, soaking the skin of his knee. The only thing that registered in his frantic mind was Hisoka, the image of his broken form, the light rising and falling of his chest, the blank look in his once lively emerald eyes… Reaching out a tentative hand, Tsuzuki longed to stroke his hair and tell him that it was only a nightmare, and that he was awake now and that everything was fine. To be able to comfort him and tell him none of it had been real. Even if it was a complete and utter lie.

With extreme care, Tsuzuki slowly slid his hands beneath Hisoka's slim form, gently lifting him from the hard, wet ground. Pulling the boy close to his own body, Tsuzuki looked at his partner's pale face dismayed; Hisoka's expression hadn't changed at all. He showed no sign of life, nor did he notice of Tsuzuki's presence. He looked completely empty; an expression Tsuzuki was far too familiar with.

Still clutching the boy to his chest protectively, the older man turned back towards the stone staircase and away from the gory mess that the doctor had left. He would take Hisoka back to their hotel; it was the best place for him at the moment, as it would be a quiet place for him to rest. At least there, Tsuzuki could look after him until he was better, without every shinigami in Meifu coming to visit and pester the poor boy. Tsuzuki could take care of his partner by himself. Shinigami healed quickly, right? Though even as the thought processed in his mind, Tsuzuki already knew better; this only held true for physical wounds. Even if the boy's body did recover… Would he ever be the same? Sad amethyst eyes looked at the frail being in his arms, his lips fixed in a frown. _'Will he ever be Hisoka again?'_

Tsuzuki was so lost in his own troubled thoughts that he didn't even notice Watari's arrival; instead, he walked passed him in silence, carefully making his way back down the steps. The blonde didn't pay any mind to it, but looked passed him to see what the brunette was walking away from. It only took the scientist one look at the blood stained landing to figure out what had occurred; it certainly explained the reasoning behind Tsuzuki's strange behaviour. _'We were too late...'_

* * *

Dead green eyes looked skyward, unseeing. Hisoka could feel that he was being moved, but it was all so far away, almost as though it were happening to someone else. Was it that man again? Was he coming to hurt him more? Why couldn't he be left alone, left to die? And stay dead this time...

'_Please... just let me go...'_ As hard as he tried to struggle against the arms that held him prisoner, he couldn't manage even a twitch. He was defenseless... or more accurately, _useless_.

Hisoka was so far gone, so lost inside himself, that he couldn't even tell that the person he was trying to escape was actually the person he wanted the most.

* * *

This was all his fault. If he hadn't asked for all that stupid food… or if he had gone to look for Hisoka sooner, this wouldn't have happened. Hisoka wouldn't have met up with Muraki, he wouldn't be laying there in pain, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. _'It's all my fault…'_ The words echoed in his mind, refusing to be ignored. _'It's all my fault…'_

Since they had returned to the hotel, Tsuzuki had flat out refused to leave the boy's side for any reason. He sat next to Hisoka's bed watching over his partner, as though waiting for someone to come and snatch him away.

Watari didn't need to be an empath to tell that guilt was threatening to swallow the amethyst eyed man whole, even if this wasn't his fault. The blonde had tried everything to convince Tsuzuki to take a break, or that perhaps they could take turns looking after Hisoka. He'd even tried to entice the man with sweets, but it was a futile attempt; Tsuzuki would not budge.

Minutes crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace, then hours. Unnoticed by the shinigami, the sky outside had faded, red light slowly creeping over the horizon. But inside the room, there was no change at all. Watari worked away on his computer, occasionally checking on the two in the other room. He'd tried sitting with Tsuzuki, but he felt almost awkward, as though he were intruding on something. The silence had become deafening, only broken by the occasional bird chirping outside.

Hisoka's condition hadn't changed either. He was still breathing, but that was all he was doing. Tsuzuki had continued his silent vigil throughout the night, not even taking the time to shed his bulky trench coat. In truth, he hadn't even noticed that he was still wearing the heavy garment... At least, not until he heard the muffled ring coming from his pocket. The tired shinigami let out a surprised yelp, the high pitched noise startling him back to reality. Without thinking, he shoved his hand in his pocket, his fingers groping blindly for the phone.

Finally, his hand reemerged with the annoying ringing device, its small screen lit up. _'Unknown caller? Who...?'_

For a moment, Tsuzuki considered just letting it ring; he really didn't feel in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment. But what if it was Kacho or Tatsumi...? They'd probably wonder what had happened to them... He thought that he'd told Watari to report in!

With a low sigh, Tsuzuki pressed the pick up button. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Tsuzuki-san. I trust you and the bouya slept well?"


	4. Less Than Pleasant Company

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei does not belong to me. For if it did, Tsubaki-hime would have been physically kicked off the back of the ship (anyone who tells people to call her princess deserves such a fate) and an important kiss scene that the anime seemed to be lacking would have been added. However, I do not own it.

Note: This is my first fan fic ever! Soka-chan (my friend!) asked about a 'what if' story from Yami no Matsuei, so I told her that I'd write one! In the first episode of the Kyoto arc, what would have happened had Tsuzuki not shown up to save Hisoka from Muraki?

Yet again, an unfairly long wait. I apologize for my slowness… I just can't seem to keep up with school and get these poor little updates out fast enough! Hopefully, the wait hasn't deterred anyone, and the chapters are worth the time they take to get!

Anyways, here is the next chapter! For anyone who couldn't guess who was calling last time... Our Evil Doctor has returned to the scene to stir up more trouble. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers; your support is very much appreciated! And yes, I am terribly greedy, as I am always wanting more! More reviews are loved! And flames... they're better off toasting marshmallows.

Warnings: Well, being YnM, obviously shounen-ai and yaoi... O.o If you don't like it, why are you looking at Yami no Matsuei? If you've made it passed the second chapter, I'm sure you can handle this.

_

* * *

_

"Good morning, Tsuzuki-san. I trust you and the bouya slept well?"

"Muraki! You son of a-" Tsuzuki growled, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. His fingers tightened around the small phone, squeezing until the plastic surface creaked in protest. That bastard... Tsuzuki had forgotten that the man knew his number...

"Ah, ah… Language, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki scolded, the sinister doctor's mocking tone enough to make the shinigami's blood boil.

Tsuzuki could tell the silvery haired man was wearing that infuriating smirk; he'd been around the twisted man often enough to tell. He was probably proud of himself for hurting Hisoka or for some similar, just as sickening, reason… Tsuzuki only wished the doctor were closer, so he could knock the expression from his face.

"I gather from your less than pleasant greeting, that you're having trouble with your current case? That recent string of serial killings?" Muraki continued, "Or perhaps you're upset about the bouya?"

Tsuzuki almost growled in response; he couldn't find words harsh enough to respond. How could that man remain so damned calm! It was that calmness that upset him more than anything; Tsuzuki felt so much guilt about the lives he'd taken, the pain he'd caused. But with Muraki... He could talk about it as though it were nothing at all... As though people's lives were some trivial thing that could be used and tossed away without a second thought.

"I see you aren't very talkative this morning, Tsuzuki-san..." Muraki commented coolly. "I actually called to ask if you'd care to join me for breakfast? I know of an excellent place-"

"Cut the crap. What is it you really want, Muraki?" Tsuzuki interrupted rudely, red hot anger licking at his insides, trying to push its way to the surface. He was prepared to hang up on the doctor, simply so he wouldn't have to hear his arrogant voice anymore. But what Tsuzuki desired above all was to make the man pay, to punish him for what he did to Hisoka... Which was something he could not do over a cell phone.

"You should learn to listen better, Tsuzuki-san," Muraki replied haughtily, seemingly unaffected by the shinigami's rage. "I just told you. I want you to meet me for breakfast."

"And why the hell would I want to go to breakfast with you?"

"Well, I could always come to you instead? Perhaps while I'm there, I could offer my professional services to the bouya?" The doctor offered, knowing exactly how to manipulate the other man, "He looked a little pale last night…"

_'Damn him!'_ The last thing Tsuzuki wanted to do was leave his partner's side. Even if Watari was there to look after Hisoka, it wasn't the same as watching over him himself. What if Hisoka woke up? Then Tsuzuki wouldn't be there and Hisoka may think that he'd been abandoned once again. He wouldn't know if Hisoka was alright, he wouldn't be there to comfort him...

But then again, he knew all to well that Muraki would keep to his word. If Tsuzuki didn't meet the man for breakfast, he would show up at their hotel. And somehow, the shinigami didn't think that the doctor's presence would be helpful to Hisoka's healing process. What choice did he have?

"Bastard. Where will you be?" the amethyst eyed man snapped finally, irritated that the doctor was in control. Again.

* * *

A soft click echoed in the quiet room as Muraki lay the phone back in the cradle, a satisfied smirk curling his lips. So far, his plan was running smoothly… And though he certainly hadn't intended on running into the bouya, it had certainly been to his advantage. Yet again, his little doll had worked as the perfect bait to lure his Tsuzuki-san…

"Should I be worried?" an amused voice sounded from the doorway behind him. "Whenever you smile like that, it usually means you're up to something…"

"Of course not, Oriya," Muraki replied, his silver eyes meeting those of the voice's owner.

Mibu Oriya, master of KoKakuRoh, now stood framed by the door, his intelligent brown eyes fixed on the doctor. The silken material of his long kimono shimmered in the early morning sunlight that filtered through the window, making the colours look even more vibrant. One corner of his lips was turned up in a lopsided smile; a sarcastic expression to say the least… He knew Kazutaka far too well to think he wasn't causing trouble of some kind. What were friends for, if not to notice these things?

"And I suppose you'll be needing another favour?" Oriya continued, ignoring Muraki's answer completely.

"You do know me far too well," the silver haired man replied softly, mirroring his friend's thoughts. Perhaps it was a sign that he asked far too much of the other man... However, now was not the time to be worrying about that. After all, if everything went according to plan, Oriya wouldn't have to put up with him for much longer.

"I need you to get me reservations for a breakfast for two," Muraki explained simply, as he tightened his dark tie. He gestured to a business card laying on the bedside table, before continuing, "Have them hold a table for about... 8:30am?"

"Care to tell me who your date is?" the brunette responded dryly, knowing full well that Muraki wouldn't give him a straight answer. When did he ever? They played this game every time the silver haired man came to Kyoto; Muraki would take what he wanted, and wouldn't offer Oriya anymore information than he had to. Why he put up with the doctor was a mystery... Even to himself.

Instead of even attempting to answer, Muraki simply turned his back on the brunette, under the pretense of inspecting his long coat. The material that had been blood soaked only hours earlier had somehow been cleaned back to its original pristine ivory. There was not a drop of red left; every sign of his gory deeds had somehow been erased. Seemingly satisfied, he slid his arm into the sleeve, swinging the heavy garment around his shoulders.

As he adjusted the high collar, Muraki turned his head to the side, glancing at Oriya out of the corner of his eye. Once he had finished with the coat, he faced his friend once more, as though tired of waiting for him to leave.

"It seems that my beloved has finally noticed my signal," the doctor replied cryptically, the corner of his pale lips pulling up into a smirk.

"Now, Oriya. About those reservations...?"

* * *

"Watari, look after Hisoka," Tsuzuki instructed harshly, rising from his seat. He couldn't believe he was actually doing this. Going to meet Muraki alone, while Hisoka was still unconscious? Not to mention badly injured... But, it wasn't like he had a lot of options.

Watari, startled by the loud voice, quickly leapt to his feet. He'd heard Tsuzuki speaking to someone on the phone just a few minutes earlier, but he had simply dismissed it as Tatsumi. Though at the time, the blonde had been confused as to why the secretary would call, especially as he had just reported in... But from Tsuzuki's present tone, the scientist had a pretty good guess as to the caller's actual identity. _'This isn't good...'_

"Tsuzuki..." But before Watari could even begin to protest, the amethyst eyed shinigami shot him an icy glare, silencing him instantly. Any arguments the scientist had died on his quivering lips; he was actually _afraid_ to get in the other man's way. Everyone knew Tsuzuki was the most powerful shinigami in JuuOhCho, but his idiocy and cheerfulness often made people forget that fact. But any trace of that silliness was now gone, leaving him only with that cold, hard fact; Tsuzuki _was_ the most powerful... and the most dangerous.

"I'm going after him," the brunette explained quietly, all too aware of Watari's fear. It hurt that his long time friend would back away from him like that, as though he were some kind of monster or...or... demon. _'But then again, I must seem like one...'_

"Call me if anything changes... I'll be back soon."

And with that, the door closed and Tsuzuki was gone. Watari looked at the door for a moment, as though hoping that it was all a bad joke, and that the bubbly shinigami would barge back in at any moment. But, he knew that was just wishful thinking. There was no way any of this could end well, for Hisoka or Tsuzuki, or even Muraki.

Turning his attention to his unconscious charge, Watari began to wish he hadn't been so careless with his thoughts... When this began, he'd wondered just what Tsuzuki would do if Hisoka had been hurt or attacked by Muraki. But now that it was a reality... he really didn't want to know anymore.

* * *

Why did there always have to be Sakura petals? The cherry blossoms haunted him, awake or asleep, or... whatever he was now. Was this real death? Was it finally over? It couldn't be, not with those accursed blossoms lazily trailing through the air, just like they had that night...

But for some reason, it wasn't only the flowers this time. The rich colour of autumn leaves flashed through the rain of pink petals, intermingling and blending... Much the way his memories were. But one thing remained constant: that white clad monster was always there... There to taunt him, abuse him, violate him... _hurt_ him.

Brushing an annoying stray petal from the front of his kimono, Hisoka dared to take a nervous look around. A stone stairway lay before him, its steep steps showered in cherry blossoms and fallen leaves. '_Wh-where... is this? Where... is Tsuzuki?_' He wanted to run, to find his partner, but something was calling him up those steps. It all felt so familiar... and so wrong.

"No... I don't want to go up there. I want to go home..." he whispered softly, trying to stop himself from moving.

But he couldn't stop... He was going up the steps, crushing the poor blossoms under his wooden sandals. Towards... something. Just what was up there? He knew that he knew, but his brain felt fuzzy, as though it were purposely hiding the knowledge from him. But he could feel it; something was wrong... terribly wrong...

With each step, the carpet of flowers and leaves seemed to get thicker, and for some reason... stickier. The paper thin leaves clung to the hem of his long kimono, held tight by some red liquid that looked disturbingly similar to blood...

"No..."

But his protests did little good; his feet seemed to be moving by their own volition, carrying him ever closer to the top.

As he climbed the final step, the sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks; he _did_ know what awaited him on the landing... And now, it was too late to escape. All he could do was scream as the white figure closed in on him, scream for a salvation that would not come.

"Tsuzuki!"

* * *

"So pleased you could make it, Tsuzuki-san."

The doctor's voice made Tsuzuki's teeth clench, biting back the harsh words that threatened to spill out of his mouth at any moment. Why did the man have to pretend that everything was fine? As though it were simply two friends meeting for breakfast, wanting to talk about old times and what else was new... Instead of a twisted murderer forcing his prey to meet him after hurting the one they cared for most.

"Muraki," he acknowledged coldly, reluctantly settling down in the seat across from the sinister man. Somehow, he had the feeling that he'd regret this before it was over... But then again, when did he _not_ regret meeting Muraki?

The silvery haired man's lips curled into a small smile, an expression that one could possibly mistake for kindness or some harmless, friendly emotion. That was, unless they actually knew the personality of the one who owned the smile. Like Tsuzuki did. He knew full well that the look was far from innocent - Muraki was pleased with himself. He had gotten his way, and he knew it.

"You're even early," Muraki commented silkily, the sickening grin not leaving his face. "If only you could be on time for everything, ne?"

'_Like last night._' He may as well have said it, as the shinigami knew that he meant it. If only he'd showed up in time to save his partner, instead of sitting around waiting for him to come back. If only he'd been there early when Muraki had attacked Hisoka, instead of condemning him to torture and...

'_You know this is exactly what he wants!_'

He couldn't let himself get worked up, not now. He'd have plenty of time to come to terms with what had happened later... But right now he needed to focus on the vile creature sitting across from him. If he let himself get distracted, Muraki could easily pull something.

"Why did you call me out here?" he asked stiffly, struggling to keep his rising temper under control. The urge to reach across the table and physically knock the smirk off the man's face was almost overwhelming... Some small way of returning some of the pain he'd caused to Hisoka.

"Because I enjoy your company," Muraki replied coolly, not bothering to hide his amusement. He truly enjoyed watching the shinigami suffer like that. The pain and rage burning in those lovely amethyst eyes... Not to mention the hatred. It was that cold, heartless emotion he liked the most.

"I took the liberty of ordering for the both of us," he continued, running a slender finger around the smooth rim of his water glass. "I had originally intended for our meal to be prepared in time for your arrival, but since you are here ahead of time..."

As the doctor went on, Tsuzuki tried everything he could to not listen. If he didn't hear Muraki's words, then he wouldn't have reason to react to them... He also wouldn't have reason to summon all twelve of his shikigami right in the middle of the restaurant and completely erase the man from existence. Unfortunately, his attempts at deafness continued to fail, and Muraki continued to ramble. '_Does he really like the sound of his own voice that much?_'

"I actually would have preferred to have taken you to dinner, as it would have given me the opportunity to treat you to some of those sweet pastries you enjoy so much. However, my business ran unexpectedly late last night..."

"You consider killing innocent people '_business_'?" Tsuzuki retorted, quickly giving up on his original plan. If it had been hard to ignore Muraki before, it had become impossible after that. That he could continue to speak of his victims so casually... There was no possible way he could remain silent after that. Especially not when one of those victims had been Hisoka.

"So you've been working hard on your case? And you think I'm the one behind the killings?"

The doctor hadn't even attempted to hide the amusement in his voice. One would have thought he'd be upset at being figured out so quickly, but he seemed quite the opposite. Though, it probably should have been expected, especially with the noticeable trail he'd left for the shinigami to find. Something as incriminating as hair left on one of the victims? Not unless the killer were a complete fool. Or... the evidence was left on purpose.

"This isn't a game! I know you're the one behind it!" the amethyst-eyed shinigami snarled, his voice raising with each word. While the outburst seemed to have no effect at all on Muraki, it did earn him a few bewildered stares from other nearby patrons.

"Now really, Tsuzuki-san... You need to learn to keep that temper of yours in check. You tend to lose control so easily," the white clad villain chided, throwing the other a mocking look of disapproval. "Especially when it concerns the bouya."

The brunette opened his mouth once again at the mention of Hisoka, his anger reaching a whole new level; he actually dared to bring up his partner at a time like this? But before he could put voice to his rage, he was cut off by the doctor once more.

"But you're right; I am the one behind the recent string of murders."

Why did it matter if Muraki admitted to it? It didn't change what he'd done to those women... What he'd done to Hisoka. Nor did he feel guilty about it; Muraki probably wanted to take the credit for it. Just more pain caused by his already blood soaked hands...

But still, why confess now? Was he giving Tsuzuki the chance to learn more about his newest scheme? Or was he just taunting him again?

"Why cut the victims' hair?" the shinigami demanded in a low voice, quickly deciding to avoid the subject of Hisoka. It was the best idea at the moment... He would make Muraki regret what he'd done, there was no question about that... But it was better that he first learned what he could about the murder case. After all, the silver haired man might not be so willing to talk after Tsuzuki had finished with him. That was, if he was still _able_ to talk.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that, Tsuzuki-san," the other replied calmly as he tilted his head, causing his unruly platinum locks to fall away from his wider, unnatural eye. "Though I'm surprised... You'd worry about a few pieces of lost hair... And yet, you won't ask why I tortured the bouya? I would have thought he meant more to you than that."

Keeping calm? The idea was as incomprehensible as a foreign language...

All rational thoughts lost, Tsuzuki lunged across the small table, sending their water glasses tumbling to the floor. Without another moment's hesitation, he drew back and hurled a sharp blow towards the doctor's smirking face, no longer caring who was watching them. Forget the case, JuuOhCho, the victims... They hadn't been able to help Hisoka anymore than he had! Well, that was going to change... Right now!

_'So predictable...'_ In a single, fluid motion, Muraki easily caught Tsuzuki's wrist, causing the punch to sail harmlessly passed its target. However, instead of releasing him, the silver haired man's grip tightened as he wrenched the shinigami's hand closer with surprising strength. Muraki's silver eyes glinted dangerously as they traveled down the smooth, flawless skin of Tsuzuki's hand coming to rest on the thick leather watchstrap that covered his wrist. A strangely wicked smirk formed on his pale lips - not a good sign.

"How rude of you, Tsuzuki-san! Attacking me so violently..."

Fiercely struggling against his sadistic captor, Tsuzuki still wasn't able to free his hand from the doctor's vice-like grip. Muraki's physical strength was far greater than the brunette had ever imagined; though now that he thought about it, it only made sense. How else could he claim his victims, if not by overpowering them?

"Let me go." Tsuzuki commanded, still writhing in the other's grasp. He hadn't taken any notice of the ominous grin Muraki wore, as he was too busy trying to pry his hand away.

"Now why would I do that?" Muraki questioned, not that he actually expected an answer; in fact, he didn't leave room for one. Instead, he gently stroked the inside of Tsuzuki's wrist, the tips of his finger running over the worn leather of the watchband.

Before the shinigami could protest, he quickly added with seemingly innocent curiosity, "I see you wear your watch on the right… Are you a lefty, Tsuzuki-san? Or perhaps... are you trying to cover the scars on your wrist?"

For a moment, the sounds of the bustling restaurant seemed to fade out, almost like a television station with bad reception. _'Wh-what did he just say?'_

Tsuzuki's fighting ceased almost instantly at Muraki's words; his arm fell limp in the doctor's grasp as his violet eyes widened with shock and... something that appeared to be... fear?

_'How could Muraki have...'_ He'd never told anyone about his life, nor about the circumstances of his death... not even Hisoka. _' My death… my… my cowardice… There's no way he could have known that!' _But even as the words rang through his mind, he knew that wasn't right. That hadn't just been some lucky guess – Muraki knew.

Guarded memories, that Tsuzuki had long wished to forget, crept back into the dark corners of his mind, trying once again to make themselves known. Hard as Tsuzuki tried to ignore them, to push them away… They just continued to surface, threatening to overwhelm him.

Muraki could not have been more pleased with the shinigami's reaction to his words; it was more than he could have hoped for. _'My dear Tsuzuki-san… It hurts, doesn't it? Remembering… But how can you expect to survive what I have in store for you, if even this is too much?'_

He carelessly let the man's hand drop back to the table, letting it land heavily on the wooden surface; Tsuzuki made no effort to stop it. His purple eyes looked vacant... empty. Much the way Hisoka's had the previous night... An expression of defeat.

"Tsuzuki-san… Our meeting in Nagasaki was where it all began... And here, in Kyoto, we are coming to the climax of this drama... and it's almost time for the finale."

Climbing to his feet, Muraki's predatory gaze didn't leave the shinigami for an instant. Not that it made any real difference; it was a lot like watching a blank wall… Tsuzuki was lost for the moment… He barely noticed the doctor's presence anymore; or at least, he wasn't acknowledging it. Instead, Tsuzuki continued to stare through his thick watchband, as though he could see the mess of crisscrossing scars that marred the soft flesh beneath. An eternal sign of his sins… The one wound that would not heal.

No longer interested in the meal he'd ordered, the doctor finally turned his back on the table, and Tsuzuki as well, his long coat flaring with the motion. He'd achieved his goal, so there was little point in hanging around. After all, it was doubtful that his lovely, chocolate-haired doll would be the best of company now…

Had he bother to notice this, Tsuzuki would have been quite happy that the ivory demon had left… But he was too preoccupied to care. He had to try and calm down! It… it wasn't important that Muraki knew how he died. He couldn't know anything else about his life… _'Not true… He knows what a monster you are… He knows that you're just like him – A creature of the darkness…A murderer.' _

_'Stop it! You can't think like that… Even if it's true… What good will you be to Hisoka, if all you can think about is yourself? You need to-' _

An all too familiar ringing cut off Tsuzuki's thoughts, a sound he was beginning to despise. It had been because of that sound he'd ended up with Muraki in the first place!

Pulling the phone out from the depths of his overcoat, he glared at the small screen - Another unknown number. What the hell good was caller ID?

Harshly pressing the button, he put the phone to his ear… This situation was far too reminiscent of before, only this time, he was ready…

"Muraki, I swear I will-!"

"Tsuzuki?"

The shinigami faltered, suddenly realizing that it was not the arrogant voice of Muraki on the other end. Which, had he not been so distracted, he would have realized made perfect sense... What would have been the point of calling Tsuzuki from just outside the front door?

"Watari? I'm sorry about that, it's just…"

"It's fine… But Tsuzuki, you need to get back here right away. It's about Bon…"


	5. A Brief Interlude

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei does not belong to me. The End. (Unfortunately…)

Warnings: Well, being YnM, obviously shounen-ai and yaoi... O.o If you don't like it, why are you looking at Yami no Matsuei? I maintain that if you've made it passed the second chapter, you can handle this.

* * *

Notes: 

So, it's been almost... two years since I worked on this. XD I feel so... bad for leaving it as it is. However, I would like to start working on new chapters for it. I am really in need of a beta, as my YnM muse is a bit rusty, so please - if anyone is interested, please email me (I believe that my email is on my profile page, and Quick Edit won't allow me to type it here... )! A new chapter won't be done for maybe a couple weeks, but I think I finally have an idea of where I am going with this... Hopefully, you are all still interested in reading, and hopefully I get a good beta to help me out! Please? ;-;

So, as a show of good faith, a mini interlude between chapters. XD

* * *

Various sheets of paper littered the usually tidy wooden surface of the large desk, burying the worn-looking, cream-coloured folder that had once housed them. The medical file looked a little worse for wear, very much unlike the other files that were stored away neatly in their bound folders. And, while those records were all computer typed and organized, this file seemed to be recorded as messily as it was being kept - Some of the yellowed papers bore the small, smeared letters of a typewriter, others the sloppy scrawl of a doctor's hand, and yet others in the neat handwriting of their current owner's own notes.

The odd, dog-eared photograph stood out among the mass of writing, each a different view the same, monochromatic subject; a poor man looking nearly as worn as the file itself, his dark locks scraggly and mussed, and bandages hanging loosely over one eye. Had the picture been in colour, one would have noticed the deep chocolate of his hair, or even more likely, the unusual violet hue of the subject's eyes… Not a colour typically seen in _human_ eyes.

As the scratch of the door sliding across the track echoed hollowly through the sterile, near bare room, the breeze caused by the opening door ruffled the mess of papers on the desk, lifting their worn corners. The force was just enough to send the aged photograph sliding over the edge, and fluttering to the ground like a strange, disoriented butterfly.

No sooner had it landed on the smooth wood floor, that a set of slender, pale fingers scooped it up again, with the careful touch of one holding a child. Lifting the abused picture to eye level, the owner of the photo's lips twisted into a strange smile.

"Soon Grandfather. Soon, your patient will return."

Muraki Kazutaka's silvery eyes went from the greyish eyes of the familiar man pictured in the photograph, traveled down his lovely neck, and passed the edge of the paper, where in life, the rest of the body would be.

"And then, you will be mine, Tsuzuki-san."


	6. Double Cursed

Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei does not belong to me. The End. (Unfortunately…)

Warnings: I maintain that if you've made it passed the second chapter, you can handle this.

Notes: I'm not making promises anymore. XD This will be written when I can manage it... it seems whenever I give a date, my life makes a liar out of me. So, I will not say anything about the next chapter, and hopefully, that will make it happen sooner.

I'm still without a beta... My email is storm underscore two zero one zero at hotmail dot com. Try cutting that, quickedit. Anyway, put it together in its proper symbol and number form, and it should work. XD Please?

Anyway, here is my next chapter. Please enjoy, and I hope it was worth the disgustingly long wait.

* * *

Just how had she been landed with this responsibility? Mariko shivered slightly, picking up her pace as she made her way down the deserted hallway. While the university seemed welcoming enough during the day, the deep evening shadows and flickering exit signs transformed it into some terrifying monster that threatened to swallow her up, never to be seen again. Monsters with hideous faces and razor claws lingered at the back of her mind, taunting her – she needed to cut back on the science fiction novels…

Frowning to herself, the young girl hugged a thick brown book close to her chest – the book that her friend Maki had asked her to deliver. They both worked together in the school's library, doing the odd jobs that the librarian didn't have time for… Cataloguing, reshelving, and, in some cases, delivering.

"Even if this is for Maki, I wish that the school wasn't so creepy at night…" she muttered to herself. She wasn't in the habit of talking to herself, but in this care, it made her feel less alone in the silent corridor.

Though, it would seem that she wasn't quite as alone as she thought – as she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with a wall of white. White which happened to be worn by one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen.

He had flawless skin and silvery blonde hair that hung freely over one side of his face. With his glasses perched on the bridge of his elegant nose and the pristine ivory suit, she thought for a moment that he was one of the professors are the university… Though, she couldn't recall seeing him around…

As she gawked at the stranger, he turned to look at her. Behind the lenses of his glasses, she could only see one eye – the other was hidden behind a thin curtain of hair – but it was far different that anything she'd expected… Heavy lidded and silver, with an almost cat-like look to it. It would almost have been terrifying, had it not been so beautiful…

"Excuse me, young lady," he said, his deep voice making her jump. "Would you happen to know where Doctor Satomi is?"

Blinking stupidly for a moment, as if in awe that this angelic man was actually speaking to her, the young girl quickly shook her head.

"I… err… Well, I'm only a student at an affiliated school…" she stammered, trying to regain her composure. "So…"

The hoarse voice of another man abruptly cut off her rambling.

"Muraki-kun! I'm sorry for making you wait!"

From the other side of the hall, another man loped towards them. He had darker hair flecked with strands of grey and thick stubble on his chin – he looked as though he hadn't shaved in days. There were deep lines etched in his tired face and dark circles under his eyes, and the faint brown of coffee stains marred the front of his wrinkled dress shirt. How could someone as scruffy as Doctor Satomi possibly know this gorgeous man?

As he skidded to an abrupt halt, nearly tripping over his own feet, the unkempt scientist offered a lopsided smile to his white clad guest. He seemed to be excited about something, though Mariko wasn't sure what exactly about… Could he have completed some wretched and strange experiment, and was about to share his dastardly results with this man?! Her eyes widened slightly and she hugged the thick bound book tighter to her chest, its presence reminding her of why she was there.

She gave a small cough, the noise bringing Satomi's attention back around to her, his strange smile dropping into a confused frown. Trying not to let the expression deter her, she pressed on, holding the book out to him.

"You… reserved this book from the library… a couple of weeks ago, Doctor Satomi…" she explained, waiting for him to take it. "And it arrived this morning… so… umm…"

His shaggy eyebrows raised slightly as he took the book from her grasp, flipping open the cover to skim the first couple pages. A look of recognition passed over his worn features as he nodded slowly, closing the book with a snap.

"Thank you," he said gruffly, turning his back on the young redhead, who had been watching him almost expectantly, waiting for some confirmation that her job was done.

Her lips broke into a nervous smile as she bowed politely, quite happy for an excuse to escape the eerie corridor. Without looking back at the unusual pair, she dashed off down the hallway, Maki's words echoing in her mind.

'_Did you hear? Doctor Satomi has been working on cloning people! Do you think he's managed to make some kind of person and has been hiding them inside his lab?'_

Could that person in white have been a clone? That could explain…

'Mariko, you really do read too many science fiction novels… He's probably just a colleague of Doctor Satomi!' she scolded herself, heaving open the heavy front door and stepping out into the red tinged moonlight.

* * *

"Hisoka…" 

The name somehow managed to slip passed his lips, leaping from the tip of his tongue... He said it unconsciously, as though by calling out to him, his partner would somehow hear him. It seemed such foolish hopes were the only thing he could offer him right now... How could he have been so stupid, leaving his side! He shouldn't have met with Muraki. Then, Hisoka wouldn't have...

Without a second thought for the others on the sidewalk, Tsuzuki continued his panicked pace, rudely shoving his way through the morning crowd. He rounded sharp corner and, narrowly avoiding an unsuspecting woman, the shinigami bolted down the street in the direction of their rundown hotel.

His dark coat flared behind him as he ran, strangely reminiscent of some hero's cape... Waving triumphantly in the wind as he rushed in to save the day, or defend some poor innocent from evil. Had Tsuzuki's mind thought of such a comparison, it probably would have made him ill. There was absolutely nothing heroic about him. Heroic would have been if he'd managed save Hisoka from Muraki's clutches in the first place. A true hero would actually be able to help his partner somehow, save him from the darkness that now threatened him. He'd be able to _save_ him.

'_Self-pity is not going to help you or Hisoka. Idiot.'_

Wincing inwardly, he pressed on, his leg muscles screaming their protest. The phone call was still clear in his mind, forcing the speed in his step.

"_It's fine… But Tsuzuki, you need to get back here right away. It's about Bon…"_

_The words hit him like a ton of bricks. This couldn't be happening._

_The usually bubbly scientist's voice sounded strained, his worry evident, even over the phone. What could have happened to have shaken him – perhaps a better question was what more could have happened… _

"_He's been - " _

"_I'll be right there."_

_The answer was automatic. His body felt numb, his blood cold. He didn't have to hear what had happened in his absence… it didn't matter. He wasn't there for his partner – again._

The dilapidated hotel was in sight at the end of the street. He was almost there…

'_Hang on, Hisoka…'_

* * *

"I really appreciate the help, Muraki-kun." 

The room was in a state of disarray; stacks of research notes lay scattered over every surface, charts were crudely tacked to the walls, and the glass specimen tanks were grungy and in sore need of a thorough cleaning. The actual testing area was tidied enough not to taint his results, but that was the extent of his cleanliness.

"Not only are you helping me with such distasteful research, but you've even arranged for funding…"

Hunching over one of the stained tables, Satomi filled one of the chipped white mugs with coffee for his guest before filling a second for himself - He wasn't the most skilled of hosts, but he would at least offer his former student a drink, especially under the current circumstances.

Muraki stood in the opposite corner of the room, perusing one of the packed bookshelves as the aged man prepared their drinks. His face was expressionless, as though he weren't really listening to his words, or perhaps, just didn't care.

"It's only natural for an admiring student to cooperate with his teacher," he replied finally, his silvery eyes wandering to one of the larger tanks. The heart floating inside had long since withered and failed – apparently, Satomi had still not made the progress he had been promising. A pity, considering the time - and blood - that had been wasted to… _obtain_ the sample.

"Muraki-kun…"

As the scruffy scientist turned, he spotted just what the doctor had been looking at – his face instantly fell, his thick brows furrowed in annoyance. Not at Muraki however, but at his own shortcomings. He hardly needed to parade his recent failures in front of his own student, especially one who provided the funding to his project… They were certainly not the type of results that would continue such generosity.

"How shameful… Cell division has ceased again…"

Flushing, Satomi stared hard at the white-clad doctor's back. What could he be thinking? That his time and money had been squandered on another botched attempt? Of course, he could also be considering the reasons for this recent failure – Kazutaka was an intelligent man after all, and this was not the first time that a specimen had not reached its potential. His input would surely be helpful…

However, whatever it was, he remained silent. His creased lips curled into a frown, hesitant about whether or not to test his kindness any further. He could not read his expression, as he couldn't see his face… And as he had yet to say anything…

"I'm sorry, but I'll be needing another specimen," he concluded finally, momentarily forgetting the drinks he'd prepared and taking a step toward the tank. Had he only known what he was asking…

"I see."

The younger man paused for a moment, still examining the pitiful heart that floated within its glass prison, before pulling a yellowed photograph from his pocket. Glancing over his shoulder at Satomi, his pale lips twitched into what could almost have been a smirk.

"Actually, I wanted you to have a look at something."

* * *

"Tsuzuki!" 

The blonde leapt to his feet as the shinigami burst through the door, with enough force to nearly knock it off its track.

Watari stopped instantly; Tsuzuki had that same dangerous look as when he had left to see Muraki… but there was also something different. And while he couldn't claim to be the most observant of JuuOhCho's staff, you'd have to have been blind to miss the change in him. It was as evident as the worry he'd felt for Hisoka had been earlier. Then again, with the kid in such a –

Right. The kid.

"He's doing alright now, but earlier - " he started, quickly shoving his glasses back on his nose.

But Tsuzuki wasn't waiting to hear about it. He cut across the main room without stopping and made straight for Hisoka's bedside, still trying to remind himself just why he'd made the foolish decision to leave it. It had been for the better – he'd been left with no other options. Muraki would have come here, and he would have…

The thought died without completion.

Hisoka was even paler than before, his skin coated in a thin sheen of sweat. He had the covers thrown back, exposing his thin torso, his chest heaving with each laboured breath. But it wasn't this feverish state that made Tsuzuki's own chest tighten. Most disturbing were the trailing designs that had been traced over his chest and arms, as bright a crimson as when they'd been freshly carved. Some were darker than others, their lines weaving together in a grotesque pattern over his partner's frail body.

He clenched his fists until his knuckles went white; it took every ounce of control in him to stop himself from hitting something. Instead, he slowly knelt beside the teenager, at a complete loss for words. The superficial injuries had long since healed over – they'd vanished hours after they'd brought him back to the hotel. What was left was the result of Muraki's curse – something he had no real knowledge of… He was helpless once again.

'_More like useless._'

"The markings reappeared just over half an hour ago," Watari explained, appearing in the doorway. "Though they were a lot worse – he was yelling for a bit. I'm surprised we didn't have any of our neighbours coming to check in on us. Then again, I doubt we have any in this dump."

He forced a nervous laugh, but quickly fell silent at the other's gaze. The brunette didn't have to voice his question – it was more than evident in that look.

"I don't know that there is anything we can do for him… Muraki's magic is stronger than I would have thought, and the kid's been double-cursed now."

Grimacing, Tsuzuki looked at strained expression on Hisoka's face before he gently brushed back a few strands of the sweat-soaked strands of hair. The gesture oddly reminded him of their first meeting – when the brat had downed his entire glass of sake in one go. Having never had alcohol before in his short life, he passed out cold, leaving him to drag him back to their hotel, all the while being lectured by Guushoshin.

He let his fingers linger on Hisoka's forehead for a brief moment, only to have them weakly batted away.

"Are… you trying to make me feel worse… than I already do?"

The world froze.

"Idiot."


End file.
